


Bluer

by enigmaticblue



Category: Angel: the Series
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-03-30
Updated: 2010-03-30
Packaged: 2017-10-08 12:48:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,942
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/75802
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/enigmaticblue/pseuds/enigmaticblue
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Written for copykween, who asked for Spike, Illyria and Connor, directly post-NFA.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Bluer

Connor limped through the alley painfully, looking at the bodies of demons that were scattered all over the place. He should have stayed; he might have been able to help.

He’d done as Angel had asked, and left, fully planning on going back to Stanford, but in the end Connor had needed to know. Angel was his father, and Connor wanted to be sure that he survived.

The alley was void of any sign that the vampire was there, however, and in the dim light of morning, Connor knew there was faint hope that he’d find Angel alive. Or, well, whatever vampires were.

“Hello?” he called cautiously. “Anybody here?” Hesitating, Connor called out, “Dad?”

“What do you want, human?”

Connor turned to see the blue woman in leather he’d caught a glimpse of on one of his visits to Wolfram &amp; Hart. “I’m looking for Angel. Is he here?”

“The vampire is no more,” the woman said, her voice flat. “What do you want with him?”

“He’s my dad,” Connor said helplessly. “I—I wanted to help him. Did you—did you see him? I mean, are you sure he’s gone?”

“I watched the dragon breathe its fire on him,” Illyria intoned. “I am certain that he is no more.”

Connor blinked, unsure of his next move now that his entire purpose for coming had been snatched away.

“You may still be of service.”

Connor met her strange blue eyes, not even aware of how attractive she was at the moment; grief had him tightly caught in its grip. He’d expected that he and Angel would have more time; Connor would have liked to get to know his biological father, and now that opportunity had been taken from him.

“What can I do?”

~~~~~

Illyria had no idea what this strange feeling was that had gripped her ever since Wesley’s form had gone still in her arms. She thought perhaps it was grief, and she didn’t like it. The human had intrigued her, and now there would be no opportunity to investigate further. Angel’s demise had not resulted in the same feelings, but there had still been regret.

_Regret_. It was such a—_human_ emotion. Illyria, the God-King, ought to be above such things.

She had fought the demons for Wesley, needing somewhere to send her pain and anger; reducing as many demons as possible to useless heaps of flesh and bone had been a start.

Angel had been destroyed early on, reduced to ash, his form pitifully weak. The other human had been dead within minutes as his weakened body gave out under the onslaught of the demonic army sent by the Senior Partners.

Spike was the only one remaining, and she feared that he would not last much longer.

The young human followed her into the hotel, stopping in his tracks when he saw Spike’s body splayed out on the marble floor of the old hotel. “What’s wrong with him?” he asked.

Illyria snorted. “I do not know. I would not have asked for your aid if I did; he is the last remaining, however, and I do not wish his death.”

“Where—what happened?” Connor asked, kneeling down next to the vampire’s still form.

“There was an army, and we defeated them,” she said. “Do you know what to do for him?”

Connor shook his head. “He’s hurt.” He touched the side of Spike’s neck, his eyes widening. “He’s got a pulse.” Glancing up, he looked at the woman. “We need to get him to a hospital.”

“Will he not recover otherwise?” she asked. “He is a vampire.”

“Not anymore,” Connor replied.

Illyria considered that for a moment, then decided that a change of form was required. She had done the same thing for the shell’s parents.

Parents. What an odd concept.

Of course, she had done the same thing for Wesley at the end; he had asked her to lie to him, and she had, even though it had not all been a lie. The strange grief told her that much.

It was accomplished in the blink of an eye; she looked as human as the boy—or the ex-vampire. When she spoke next, it was in the shell’s soft voice. “Let’s get him to the hospital, then.”

~~~~~

Connor had lied to the doctors expertly, telling them that the injured man was his uncle, that he had been mugged. Spike had been hurt badly enough that it was certainly plausible. Illyria had acted the part of concerned friend expertly; you never would have known that she wasn’t human, that most of the time she looked a lot—bluer.

And although Connor still thought Fred looked hot in leather, he no longer thought about her in that way. Fred had been like a sister to him.

“Will he recover?” she asked him, and although she still looked like Fred, she no longer sounded like her.

Connor nodded. “Yeah. They said that they needed to take X-rays, but his vitals were good.”

She did not respond, and he couldn’t tell if she was pleased or not. He had no idea how to feel, now that the adrenalin had worn off. It struck him that Spike was now the person who had been closest to Angel, the one who might have the answers to his questions.

He’d come for answers; Connor still might get them.

“Are you going to stay?” he asked her.

“I’ll stay,” she replied. “I don’t have anywhere else to be.”

When she glanced over at him, Connor noticed that she sounded like Fred again, and he wondered how much of Fred was still there, how much had been lost in the change.

And how much might have been saved.

~~~~~

Spike woke in an unfamiliar place, with unfamiliar sounds surrounding him. The first thing he noticed was the sound of his own heart beating, and he wondered if Angel was still around; being human wouldn’t be so bad, as long as he could rub it in the other vampire’s face.

Then he remembered where Angel was now, and found a bitter taste in his mouth.

Spike had never expected to feel grief at the older vampire’s passing, but life was just full of surprises.

After a moment, he recognized a hospital room, and Spike wondered how he’d gotten there. He could remember nothing after passing out in that alley behind the Hyperion. Someone had obviously made sure he was safe, and since he’d watched Angel dust and Gunn die, the only possibility seemed to be Illyria.

“Hey.”

Spike glanced over to see a kid framed in the doorway; after a moment, he realized that it was Angel’s son. Not that he’d been formally introduced to the boy, but he’d seen Connor at Wolfram &amp; Hart, and then had heard the truth later. “Hey. You have somethin’ to do with me being here?”

“Yeah. I went back looking for Angel and…” Connor trailed off. “You need anything? I have to get back to school, but—”

“No, you go on,” Spike replied, knowing that’s what Angel would have wanted. He would have wanted his son to do well. “I’ll be fine.”

“Fred—Illyria is around here somewhere,” Connor explained. “She was the one who—well, you know. I’d like to talk to you sometime about what happened, about Angel. I thought we’d have more time.”

“You always think you have more time,” Spike replied, knowing that from experience.

Connor nodded. “Yeah, I guess you do.”

“Give me your number, and I’ll call when we’ve got a place,” Spike finally said. “Don’t know where we’ll be, or I’d tell you to show up when you could.”

Connor nodded. “No, I get that.” He scratched his number on the pad of paper next to Spike’s hospital bed. “I’ll see you around.”

“Sure.” Spike watched him go, then turned his head to look out the window. For sunny California, the skies were oddly gray, suiting his mood perfectly.

He’d never wanted this; Spike hadn’t wanted the Shanshu. That had been Angel’s thing.

“You’re awake.” Fred’s cheerful tones greeted him. “I ran into Connor in the hallway, an’ he told me you were doin’ better.”

Spike could hardly bear to see her, knowing that it wasn’t the truth. At the same time, it probably wouldn’t be a good thing for any of the hospital staff to see her true form. “I’m goin’ to need to get out of here soon,” he said. “I can’t pay for any of this.”

“Tonight,” she promised, sounding more like the God-King for a moment. “I can get you out unseen.”

“That would be good,” Spike said.

“Where will you go?”

He shook his head. “Hell if I know. What about you?” At the expression on her face, Spike realized that she was more lost than he was. Wesley had been her guide; Wolfram &amp; Hart had been her kingdom, and she had lost both in one day. “Maybe we ought to stick together,” he suggested. “I won’t be able to take the beating I used to, though.”

A smile touched her lips that held nothing of Fred. “I will miss that. You did not stay down.”

“That’s me,” Spike replied with a pained smile. “’m worse than one of those blow-up clown dolls.”

She frowned, apparently searching Fred’s memories, because a little real humor crept into her eyes. “A Bobo doll?” she asked. “Perhaps that’s what I should call you from now on.”

Spike suddenly wished that he hadn’t made the comparison. “I wish you wouldn’t.”

Illyria met his eyes. “We are the last of them.” There was a fire in her gaze that had never been there with Fred. “I want vengeance.”

“Yeah, me too,” Spike replied. He definitely wanted vengeance. “Soon as I’m up and about, we’ll see about getting it. We might need some outside help, though,” he warned her.

Illyria didn’t seem fazed by that idea. “As long as they cry for mercy, I care not.”

Spike liked that idea himself; he thought Angel’s son might also want to participate. Maybe it was time to let the Slayer know he was still alive; whatever the Slayer’s reaction had been to Angel’s involvement with Wolfram &amp; Hart, she might consent to give them a hand now that it was clear that they were fighting the good fight.

Angel had been her first love, after all. She might appreciate a little vengeance on his behalf.

“Yeah, alright,” Spike said. “Guess we’ll see about making them pay, then figure out if we’re going to need an army of our own.”

Illyria frowned. “Why would you need an army when you have me?”

Spike smirked. “Wouldn’t havin’ an army make you feel better?”

She nodded slowly. “I miss having millions of soldiers at my disposal.”

Spike decided not to tell her that even if they found an army, it probably wouldn’t be at _her_ disposal. “That’s what I thought.”

With Blue there, they had a shot at doing some real damage to the Senior Partners; they might even be able to take out the remaining members of the Black Thorn.

Maybe Spike was human now, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t go out in a blaze of glory; Angel had been taken out by a dragon, after all. Spike would see this ended, one way or another, and he’d manage to take care of Illyria while he was at it.

“You should sleep now,” Illyria said. “We must leave in a few hours. I will wake you then.”

Spike closed his eyes and let himself drift off, his grief remaining even as oblivion took over, dreaming of victory at too great a cost.


End file.
